A Time to Dance
by schemester
Summary: It was a better way of expressing her feelings, Luna thought. Neville was still here, not there.


**Disclaimer:** Luna, Neville, and all of _Harry Potter_ belongs to J.K. Rowling. This story is intended for entertainment, not profit.

**Author's Note:** Done for a song/poetry challenge at Hogwarts is Home on Livejournal. Writer's Block community. I chose "Revelry" by Kings of Leon. Reviews are appreciated!

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Luna danced.

In the safety of her bedroom in her Scotland flat, she let loose of her emotions in the only way she felt was right.

She never cried—only swayed to the music that she felt could play forever in her mind, and she wouldn't mind it.

All because it reminded her of Neville, the best she had ever known.

Luna still remembered that evening a fortnight ago, that owl she received from her lover.

She had sat down at her quaint desk to read it after giving the owl a small nibble of her dinner.

_My dearest Luna,_

_I don't know if there is a right way to say this. You are the one who is so good with words, with speaking your mind. I assume—no, I know—that you must be wanting me to just "spit it out." Well, I feel as if I should at least give you that._

_Oh, Luna, Gran is dead! And what is worse is how...somehow, we did not get to this former Death Eater in time. The bloody tactless BASTARD, he snuck past all of her sensors somehow and...and used Avada Kedavra on her while she was asleep._

_I won't, I can't rest until I find him and kill him myself. Harry, Ron, and the others can have all the others. I want this man to myself. He heartlessly murdered Gran, and you know how I love—loved her, even if she scared me some—okay, a lot—as a child. But it was a good fearsome quality she had. Wanted me to make my parents proud. I can say she has seen that, but...still._

_I love you so dearly, Luna Lovegood. But we have tracks on this guy, and Harry thinks he will go after another I love next. And I trust Harry's intuition, you know that._

_I figure he looked up to that bitch, Bellatrix Black. I believe he wants to finish her work—kill anyone I love, and then murder me. Sure, more calculating than she was. She was stark bleeding mad._

_Point being, I...we can't be together anymore right now, Luna. I hate to see these words spilling onto this parchment, but...it cannot be any other way._

_Please forgive me._

_Your friend for always,_

_Neville_

Friend. Neville had not used that word to close his letters since they had begun to deliberately court.

It broke Luna's heart at that time, and she had lost her airy personality to tears for a moment. But then, as she saw her tears mix with the dried ones of Neville on the parchment, she remembered.

"_I've noticed you hardly cry, Luna. And when you do, it's only when we speak of your mother. Why is that?" Neville had asked, sitting on the couch and reading the Daily Prophet._

_Luna looked up from the newest edition of the Quibbler, which she was working on editing. "I..." she murmured, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, "I believe that only death warrants tears. True evoked emotions. Crying really gets you nowhere in other situations. Don't you like to be productive, Neville? Nothing to slow you down?"_

"_Yes," he said, almost speechless from what he had gotten to come out of his lover's pursed lips._

"_Well," Luna said, a stronger tone in her voice now, "I don't like to stand still myself, either. It allows more room for the wrackspurts to break in." She stood up from her seat and walked over to sit beside Neville. She leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her._

"_Wrackspurts, yes," he said, "I would hate to see them infest you, Luna. Though, I do believe this conversation warrants a compromise." He smiled down into her eyes, and when he saw a hint of registry in them, he continued. "Though I wish I could comfort you in your sorrows, and sometimes I do wish you would cry, you must promise me you will not cry for me. Unless, of course, I die. Though I hope to Merlin that I won't leave you in such a manner so soon, Luna."_

"_You won't—you couldn't, Neville," she whispered, burrowing her head into his chest. She would not cry those hot tears anytime soon._

Yet, she had lost herself in that letter. Something Luna Lovegood had never done before. But sooner rather than later, she had remembered Neville's words and stopped.

He was not dead. He was not beyond the veil.

And so, Luna danced her emotions away yet again, allowing the song in her mind carry her up into the clouds.


End file.
